


The Gang Goes to Heaven

by hyruling



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - The Good Place (TV) Fusion, Everyone is Dead, F/F, Jealousy, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2019-11-18 03:25:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18112301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyruling/pseuds/hyruling
Summary: The gang is dead, but that's somehow not the worst thing about their situation.(The Good Place AU)





	1. everything is fine

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimers: the plot of this fic is loosely based on the plot of 'the good place' (season 1 mainly) but it's not necessary to have seen it to read.  
> this fic is canon compliant up through 'the gang tends bar', with the exception of them knowing frank. frank is basically michael, so for the purposes of this fic they have never met him. just go with it.  
> there's very minor charlie/the waitress and rex/dee just to warn you, but i promise it's nothing and will never feature either pairing as being genuinely together. if you know the plot of 'the good place' it will make sense. 
> 
> huge thanks to ellie for talking through ideas with me and supporting this mess I love u angel <3

 

The last thing he remembers is Mac’s hand gripping his, and the curve of his mouth forming the words, “ _oh shit,_ ”. Then suffocating, blinding heat, and the acrid smell of smoke as it fills his lungs.

* * *

 

  
He opens his eyes. He’s in a brightly lit room, sitting across from a blank white wall. The words “Welcome! Everything is Fine” appear in bold, bright lettering right before his eyes.

He blinks, shifting his focus, and sees a potted plant in the corner. The couch he’s sitting on is white, and soft under his hands that are resting on either side of his legs. There’s nothing else in the room except for a door, the only exit he can see.

He should be… concerned, probably. And he is, sort of. Mentally, at least, he’s a little alarmed. He has no idea where he is, or how he got here, and his body feels curiously numb. He can feel the fabric scratch against his fingers when he rubs his hand down his shirt sleeve, but he can’t feel the ache in his knees that he’s been constantly aware of since he turned forty. The usual symptoms associated with the anxiety that he _should_ be feeling are absent. He’s just strangely… indifferent to his current situation.

The door opens before he can think on it any longer. A short, balding man with thick black rimmed glasses appears and gives Dennis what he probably thinks is a comforting smile, though it comes off as awkward and uncomfortable. He’s dressed in an ill fitting grey suit with a blue bowtie.

“Dennis? Come on in.”

He doesn’t wait for Dennis to respond before he turns back into the room he came from. He looks around again and, seeing no other option, stands and follows the man.

The office he walks into is insufferably neat. Everything on the desk is arranged in a perfectly perpendicular fashion, and the pictures and plants adorning the walls and floor are minimal and nicely kept. Mac would love it.

He feels a quick sting in his chest when he thinks of Mac, but it’s gone in an instant, and the idea leaks out of his mind as if he never thought of him at all.

“Sit down,” the man says, bringing Dennis back to his situation. He’s gesturing to an armchair across from where he’s sitting behind the desk. Dennis sits, perching on the edge of the chair so he’s ready to bolt at a moments notice.

The man watches him carefully for a few moments. “My name is Frank. How are you?”

“Well I’ll tell you, I’m a little confused here Frank,” Dennis answers. “I don’t know who you are, or where we are, but I also don’t really… care?”

“Ah, right,” Frank says. “No sense beating around the bush with you, I guess.”

Frank fidgets, adjusting the folder on his desk in front of him before dropping the bomb.

“So uh, the bad news is, you’re dead.”

He blinks, but otherwise has no reaction. His mind races, a million questions flitting through his head faster than he can keep up with them, but as far as any kind of physical reaction, he has nothing.  
  
“Oh,” is all he says when he notices Frank is watching him expectantly. “That uh… sucks?”

“Yeah, well that’s the good news,” Frank says, nodding sagely. “See, you’re not gonna experience many negative reactions to things right now, we kinda numb that for you while you’re in here,” he gestures around at the office. “And the other good news... you’re in The Good Place, Dennis.”

“The - Good Place?” Dennis repeats. He can’t help the cynical tone from creeping into his voice.

“Yeah. It’s like, heaven, but not really. You religious goons got a lot wrong.”  
  
“Whoa, wait a second, watch who you’re calling a goon. You’re referring to people like Mac, who’s delusional enough to actually _believe_ in an afterlife.”

He smirks, and relaxes in his chair, finally feeling like he’s getting the upperhand. Frank just stares at him with his eyebrows raised slightly.

“Okay… whatever, he’s still wrong about heaven.”  
  
“He was more right than you,” Frank argues, shrugging.

“Wait - ‘ _was'_?” Dennis asks, letting the argument go much more quickly than he’s accustomed to. Must be one of the “good vibes only” side effects of this room. “Is he - ?”  
  
“Dead?” Frank finishes. Dennis nods, swallowing hard.

Frank shifts. “Normally I can’t disclose that kind of information,” he says evasively. “But given that you all died from the same incident - “  
  
“ _All_?” He feels weird now. It’s like he _wants_ to be freaking out, and he _should_ be freaking out, but something is drowning the panic before it can fully sink its hooks in his chest. It’s an almost suffocating feeling, if he actually could suffocate. “So - so Charlie, and Dee, and Mac - ?”

“Yeah, all dead,” Frank confirms. “As well as - “ he squints at another file on his desk, “- a woman named Nicole, and a man named Rex. All from the same accident.”

“Wha-” is all he manages, trailing off on an exhale. He has no idea who Nicole is, but somehow they managed to get her _and_ Rex killed, which…?

_Serves him right_ , a tiny voice says, way back in subconscious, faint enough he’s sure he imagined it.

“It wasn’t a pretty death,” Frank says, answering his unspoken question. “We uh - erased the memory for you, but if you want to know?” 

“Yes,” he answers immediately, sitting up straighter in his chair. “What happened?”

He hasn’t asked if the others are here with him. It feels like that should be an important thing to know, but he can’t bring himself to do it. He’s pretty sure the answer is no.

“Alright, if you’re sure.”  
  
He comes out of his seat and around the desk until he’s facing Dennis. He takes a deep breath, and presses the palm of his hand to Dennis’ forehead.

*

“Bro this thing is heavy as shit, you carry it for awhile.”  
  
“No, you’re the one that spends four hours a day at the gym, you can carry it.”

“It’s not even _mine_ , Dennis, you should have to carry it for awhile.” 

“I’ll carry it, babe.”  
  
Dennis rears around, insult on the tip of his tongue and ready to go. But he catches sight of Rex happily taking the RPG off Mac’s hands, and the disgusting smile Mac gives him, and it dies in the stomach acid suddenly surging up his esophagus.

“Why did Dee park so far away?” Charlie asks breathlessly, lugging a backpack full of rockets and camera equipment. He and Mac have grand and insanely delusional plans to start a YouTube channel made up of their project badass videos. Charlie has even started referring to himself as a “professional YouTuber” despite only having one video on the channel with sixty-three views.

“She’s at some chick’s apartment, I told you,” Dennis answers. Mac and Rex are laughing at some inside joke behind him, something stupid and shallow no doubt, and he grits his teeth. “And we can’t blow her car up while it’s parked outside of Paddy’s dude.”  
  
“Right. You know, maybe she’s onto something with us and her cars,” Charlie muses.

“Well that’s what she gets for stealing my La Prairie night cream,” Dennis answers darkly. “Her piece of shit car probably cost less than that cream. Eye for an eye, bitch.”

Charlie shrugs, clearly just as unconcerned by destruction of Dee’s property as Dennis. They round a corner, and spot her shitty red Corolla parked in an empty lot across the street from a decrepit looking apartment building.

“Excellent,” Dennis says, smiling big and patting Charlie’s arm excitedly.  
  
They rush over to set up. Dennis had been to this same lot earlier today to drop off the plywood and transport the bikes. Mac and Rex carefully set up the ramp, carefully arranging the wood onto the trunk of Dee’s car. Charlie sets up the camera while Dennis prepares the rocket launcher.

“Okay hurry up,” Dennis calls once he’s ready. “This street won’t be empty for long.”  
  
The other three rush over, and Dennis stands taller as he presides over the event.

“Okay, Charlie, you’re running the camera. Mac, you’re gonna ride the bike as fast as you can, and as you’re flying over the top, I’ll shoot the rocket. It should hit well after you’re clear and the car will explode behind you.”  
  
“Uh, guys, are we _really_ sure this is safe?” Rex asks.

Dennis and Mac share an incredulous look. Dennis scoffs as Mac’s hand rubs over Rex’s shoulder soothingly.

“Of course it is, I’m the sheriff of Paddy’s remember?”  
  
Dennis doesn’t think his eyes could possibly roll any further back in his head.

“I’ve been over this plan like, hundreds of times. It’s flawproof.”  
  
“Foolproof,” Dennis corrects.  
  
Mac doesn’t respond, too busy kissing Rex right in the middle of the goddamn street. He distantly registers that his knuckles are cracking as he clenches his fists.

“Plus,” Mac says as he finally drags his mouth away from Rex’s. “You’ve got the first aid kit right? You’ll be right here if I get a little burned.”

“I do,” Rex says, holding it up proudly. “I’m certified, you know.”  
  
“Yeah, we know Rex, you took a two week class and now you know how to rub a goddamn alcohol swab over a cut. Congrats.”

He feels Mac’s disapproving gaze on him as he turns away to help Charlie with the tripod but makes a point of ignoring him. He’s already made his feelings about Rex being here today perfectly clear, and Mac knows it.

They finish setting up, thankfully with no more distracting PDA from Mac and Rex, and his adrenaline starts to spike as he watches Mac put on his helmet and mount the bike.

“Are you _sure_ we shouldn’t try and get like, a motorcycle?” Charlie asks again. Dennis huffs from his place next to him, fiddling with the safety on the RPG.

“He’ll be fine, Charlie,” Dennis assures him.

“I just don’t think there’s any way Mac is gonna get that going fast enough to jump the car, bro,” Charlie argues.

Dennis glances up at Mac, who’s swinging his _arms_ for some goddamn reason, in preparation for the jump. A ripple of unease goes through him for the first time.

“Alright, maybe let’s - let’s try it once without the RPG.”  
  
Charlie’s shoulders relax slightly. “Okay dude, cause like, this is probably the most dangerous PBA video we’ve ever done and - ”  
  
“PBA?” he repeats blankly.

“‘Project Bad Ass’,” Charlie clarifies.

“Goddamn - can we hurry? Can we please get this over with, because I can see some people looking out their windows, and I’m holding a fucking rocket launcher in broad daylight.”  
  
“Okay, hang on.”

Charlie cups his hands around his mouth, and Dennis has the sense to cover his ears just as he bellows, “MAC! PRACTICE ROUND!”  
  
“Jesus Christ Charlie, that was _not_ subtle,” he hisses.

“WHY? I DON’T NEED PRACTICE!” Mac yells back just as loudly. Dennis winces, glancing up at the windows of the apartment building.

“Guys, shut _up_ -”  
  
“IT’S TOO DANGEROUS BRO!”  
  
“NOT FOR A BADASS, PUSSY!”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Dennis mutters just as Rex sidles back into view.

“What’s going on? Why are we shouting?” he asks, voice all bright and innocent and grating on Dennis’ last nerve.

“We’re not, and if you open your goddamn mouth I _swear_ -”

“HEY!”

They all turn in unison towards the source of the the new, irritatingly familiar voice.

Dee is across the street, holding hands with The Waitress, and Dennis doesn’t even have time to unpack that before she’s yelling again.  
  
“Oh no, goddammit, _get away from my car you assholes_!”  
  
Dennis and Charlie look at each other, then at Mac, who waves his hands frantically.

“Go go go, get the shot, come on!” he cries as he starts pedaling, legs moving furiously.

“Shit, _shit_ ,” Dennis mutters, heaving the gun to his shoulder. Charlie works on focusing the camera as Dennis aims.

“ _Drop it you dick_!”

Her voice is getting closer.

“ _Shoot, Dennis_!” Charlie shrieks as Mac gets closer to the plank.

He panics and pulls the trigger. Several things happen in quick succession: Mac makes it halfway up the plank before toppling over, Dennis cries out his name in a useless warning just as Dee crashes into him and knocks them both to the ground, and the rocket hits Dee’s driver’s side door with a loud, resounding clank before falling innocuously to the ground.   

There’s a beat where no one moves. Dennis sees Mac struggling to his feet and pushes Dee off of him, scrambling over to where Mac is kneeling by the car.

“ _Mac_! Holy shit, dude are you okay?” he calls as he stumbles over.

He hears the clattering of footsteps as the other four rush over. He grabs Mac’s hand on instinct and helps him to his feet. He holds onto him, other hand unclasping his helmet and helping him push it off his head. He runs his fingers over Mac’s face and down his neck, looking for injuries, and barely notices Mac squeezing his other hand in his panic. He’s vaguely aware of a cacophony of concerned voices crowding around them. Rex appears on Mac’s other side, hands rubbing over his back and massaging his shoulders.

“I’m okay,” he mutters. Rex visibly relaxes, and Dennis releases the breath he’d been holding.

“You have got to be goddamn kidding me with this,” Dee hisses. Dennis tears his gaze from Mac to look at her. She looks murderous. “You were going to destroy my car? _Again_? _And_ you were going to kill Mac in the process?”

“It would have _worked_ if you hadn’t interrupted and made us rush!” Charlie argues. Dee whips around to glare at him. “Are you okay?” he adds, addressing The Waitress.

“Fine, Charlie,” she intones, rolling her eyes.

“This is a goddamn kids bike!” Dee cries, pointing at the abandoned bike. “There’s no way he would have ever made it over, you goddamn morons -”  
  
“Uh, guys?” Rex tries to interrupt.

“Charlie is right Dee, you’re the reason we screwed up. You almost killed Mac!” Dennis yells, turning to point at her accusingly.

“You’re the one that was just shooting a goddamn _rocket_ _launcher_ at him -”  
  
“ _Guys_!”

“What?” Dennis snaps, glaring at Rex. “What could you possibly need to say right now?”

“Dennis,” Mac warns. He doesn’t let go of Dennis' hand though.  
  
Rex doesn’t react to Dennis’ vitriol. He steps closer to Mac as he points at the rocket lying innocently on the ground in front of them.

“I swear I just saw it like… twitch, or something. We should probably move.”

“It’s fine, it was obviously a dud,” Dennis says, waving him off. “You never know what you’re gonna get ordering off the black market.”

“I don’t know, I saw it too,” The Waitress agrees, crowding closer to Dee. Charlie’s eyes narrow.

“What’s going on here?” he asks, gesturing between them.

“Not now Charlie,” Dee snaps.

“Guys, come on, we need to set up for round two,” Mac says.

“ _Round two_? Absolutely not.”

“Are you sure this is a dud? I swear it moved - ”

Rex’s foot moves, and just as his toe nudges the tip of the rocket, Dennis has a sudden moment of complete clarity. The cliche of seeing your life flash before your eyes turns out to be irritatingly real, and whether it’s because they spent their entire adult lives together, or because he’s still holding his hand, or something else he doesn’t have time to get into, his last genuine thought is of Mac, solid and warm next to him. A millisecond later it’s wiped out by heat, more intense than he’s ever felt, and a booming sound, louder than anything he’s ever heard. And just as quickly as it begins, it ends, and then he’s not aware of anything at all.  

*

“Fuck me,” Dennis breathes.

“Yeah. Like I said, not pretty,” Frank agrees. He wheels around and takes his seat across from Dennis again.

“We - we _exploded_?” Dennis asks. “Fucking _Rex_ killed us?”  
  
“Well, I don’t know if I’d say _that_ \- “

“I gotta say, I never really pictured it ending like that.”

“Right,” Frank says, flicking through manilla files in front of him. “Well, condolences, Dennis. But we gotta get goin’, I have to show you around.”

“Oh, right,” he says. He shakes his head, trying to clear it and come to terms with where he is again. It’s difficult, with the way his mind is fighting him. “You gonna turn this shit off when we leave?” he asks, pointing to his head.

“Once you get settled. It’s too overwhelming otherwise to let you experience the full range of human emotion so soon after death, even though it’s laughably limited.”

He stands and gestures for Dennis to follow him. They walk through the same door they came in, but when they step outside he finds himself not in the room he started in, but rather standing on a street he recognizes.

“Wait, are we in Philly?”  
  
“Yeah, we uh - we create these places called ‘neighborhoods’ that are designed to be your own personal haven,” Frank explains as they walk. Dennis takes a good look at everything; it’s Philly, but significantly cleaner. The cobblestone of the streets looks brand new, and the windows of the shops they pass are sparkling. “You and your friends never really left Philly, so we just made a newer and better version of it. Don’t fix what’s not broke, right?”

“I guess,” Dennis says, neck cricking as they pass a familiar looking building. “You have bars in heaven?”   
  
“Yeah, of course.”  
  
“So we can drink here?” he asks eagerly.

“Yeah, in fact, we have a replica of Paddy’s right over there,” Frank says, pointing to the familiar sign. He feels a twinge of something in his chest, the emotion still being suppressed slightly by Frank. "I gotta warn you though, take it slow, alcohol is five hundred percent more potent here." 

“Wow,” he says, coming to a stop on the street in front of Paddy's. “It looks… shiny.”  
  
“Yeah, we cleaned it up of course.”

His eye catches on a small rainbow flag in the window. Frank nods when he sees him looking.

“I don’t remember that being there.”

“Ah, your friend Mac put it there a few weeks before your death,” Frank says. “Apparently none of you noticed it when you were still alive.”  
  
“Oh,” is all he says. He stares at it for a long minute, thinking about Mac and making the decision to bite the bullet and ask where he is when Frank tugs on his arm.

“Come on, we’re almost there.”

He lets the question fizzle and die in his throat. They keep walking, taking a path Dennis recognizes, but Frank doesn’t give him the chance to guess where they’re going. He continues to talk, explaining how the system works.

“So the neighborhood is set up to be kind of like a community, there’s two hundred residents here currently, including yourself - ”

“You mean a hundred and ninety-nine other people’s idea of heaven is a neat freak version of Philly?” he asks skeptically.

“Yeah. It’s not so weird, people just wanna be comfortable in the afterlife, you know? Everyone here is a Philadelphian, born and raised.”

He can’t really argue with that. He wasn’t exactly anxious, thanks to Frank’s numbing voodoo, but he still feels a sense of calm walking through streets he’s known his whole life.

“Anyway, everyone has a job, to help give you a sense of purpose here -”

“Wait, I have to _work_ in the afterlife?” Dennis asks, stopping Frank with a hand on his elbow. “What kinda communist bullshit scheme are you running here?”  
  
“Language,” Frank warns. “It ain’t mandatory, but you’ll want to work Dennis. Eternity gets boring without a nine to five.”

He huffs out a disbelieving laugh. “You don’t know me very well then. I can find ways to entertain myself, thank you.”  
  
“Look, do what you want Dennis. You can do anything! You can finally be a veterinarian, if you want, though - we’ll have to bring in some more animals for you. Only about nine of the residents have pets, and they’re all birds.”  
  
“Okay - weird.”

“Yeah, not too sure what happened there. But you can do _whatever_ you want!” He gestures grandly, arms flung out to the side. “Or, you know, Paddy’s is right there if you wanna just keep going the way you were in life and run a bar.”  
  
Dennis nods, reassured. He is _not_ going to be working anywhere, he knows that for sure. Frank doesn’t know him at all if he thinks Dennis will be unfulfilled without work.

Frank continues his tour, explaining more of the ground rules and pointing out different bars and shops that Dennis barely pays attention to. He feels the salve of Frank’s emotion blocker start to wear off, and he’s starting to worry that the rest of the gang really aren’t here. He still can’t bring himself to ask.

They round a corner, and just as he thought, they end up at his apartment building. His eyes draw to their window immediately. He doesn’t expect to actually see anyone in it, and his breath catches when he sees a shadow pass in front of the window.

“Okay, couple questions,” Dennis says, interrupting whatever Frank was yammering about. “One, can I breathe and shit here? Two, is this - is that my apartment? And three, who is _in_ my apartment?”  
  
“Yes, you can breathe, you’ve been breathin’ this entire time Dennis. You can’t shit though, we got rid of all the unpleasant bodily functions.”  
  
“That’s _not_ what I - ”  
  
“And yes, that’s your apartment. And that’s your soulmate waitin’ for you inside.”

“ _What_?”

“That’s right! Soulmates are real Dennis, of course you have one in The Good Place.”

“Holy shit,” he says, craning his neck to try and get another look. “Who is it?”

“Ah ah, not yet, someone else wants to see you before we get you settled.”

*

He leads Dennis down another street, and suddenly the landscape changes. He finds himself in a suburb, one he again recognizes immediately. Frank stops in front of a large house, watching him closely. His heart leaps to his throat when he catches sight of a head of messy blonde hair on a gangly body he’d know anywhere.

“Dee!” he cries before he can help himself. He rushes past Frank and catches up to her, surprising them both as he wraps her in a hug.

“Wait, you’re real Dee right?” he asks as he pulls away, holding her at arms length by the shoulders. “You’re not like, a figment of my imagination or some shit?”

“Yes, I’m real Dee,” she confirms, looking between him and Frank nervously. “I’m guessing you’re really Dennis?”

“Of course I am,” he answers. He surprises them both and pulls her in for another hug; she even smells the same as she did on earth.

“I need to talk to you,” she hisses in his ear. He lets go, and she looks at him significantly, nodding subtly at Frank. Dennis just furrows his eyebrows

“Could we, um, have a moment? Just to catch up?” she asks Frank before Dennis can say anything.

“Sure, sure,” Frank agrees. He waves towards the house. “Why don’t you show him around your place?”

“Your - this is _your_ house?” Dennis asks, focusing on their surroundings. They’re on a lush green lawn in front of an enormous house. “Holy shit - is this _mom’s_ house?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dee says quickly, laughing in her fake obnoxious way she thinks is convincing. “I know you’re probably excited to see it, let’s go.”

Her nails dig hard into his arm as she drags him inside. She slams the door behind them. Her expression is wild when she turns back to Dennis.  
  
“Is mom _here_?” Dennis asks, looking around. Every detail is right, right down to the awkward middle school pictures of the two of them on the entry table.

“Don’t be ridiculous, she doesn’t belong here,” Dee answers.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dennis agrees.

“But neither do _we_ ,” she continues seriously, stepping forward and clutching at his arms again. “Something is wrong, we shouldn’t be here.”  
  
Dennis scoffs. “Speak for yourself, Dee.” 

“Dennis, we are not good people. Really, think about it, how the fuck did we end up here, huh?” she asks. Her eyes are wide, and she looks terrified.

“Jesus, calm down,” Dennis says, pulling himself out of her grip. “Look, Frank said that this wasn’t really like, heaven, you know? Maybe there are different rules than we all thought.”

“No, that’s - there’s no way we would end up somewhere called the goddamn ‘Good Place’. It doesn’t make sense, just like this doesn’t make sense.”  
  
She waves wildly around her, spinning as she gesticulates to her ornate surroundings.

“What - the house?” he asks. “You’re telling me you have a problem living in a mansion?”

“Of course I do!” Dee cries. “Don’t you get it? I hate it here Dennis, I hated it so much when we were kids, I couldn’t wait to get out of here!”

“What are you - you were so pissed when mom left me the house in her will!”

“Yeah, because I didn’t get _anything_!” she cries. “Not because I actually wanted to live here, this place was a nightmare. You were the one that wanted it.”

“I - yeah, I did,” Dennis says, trailing off.  
  
“See? This doesn’t make sense, if this was really ‘The Good Place’, you would be in this house instead of me.”

“Okay, Dee, while that is - odd, I admit, that doesn’t _prove_ anything - ”

“That’s not all,” she continues grimly. “Guess who my soulmate is?”

She doesn’t actually give him a chance to guess. She pads into the living room; Dennis follows, and almost chokes on his tongue when he sees who’s standing in it. 

“ _Rex_?”

“Hey Dennis!” he beams. He steps forward and engulfs Dennis into a bone crushing hug.

Dennis disentangles himself quickly, and can’t stop the hysterical laughter that's bubbling in his throat. He doubles over, laughing until he’s breathless, until Dee is dragging him bodily to the kitchen and snapping at Rex to stay put.

“Rex - is your soulmate?” he gasps. “Rex, the guy that killed us, the guy that Mac was all - is _your_ \- oh shit that’s just, that’s poetic, is what it is.”  
  
“It’s fucking homophobic,” Dee sneers. “I’m a _lesbian_ , and I end up with him? What kind of heaven is homophobic?”

“Well, the heaven Mac believed in for forty years is.”

Dee punches him in the chest. “Okay, okay,” Dennis says as he catches his breath. “Did you tell Frank?”

“Of course I did!” she answers. “I told him he was high off his ass if he thought my soulmate was a man. He gave me some crap about not all soulmates being _romantic_ , that some people end up with a 'platonic soulmate', and that they ‘never make mistakes’.”

“Well there you go, sounds reasonable to me.”

“Dennis! It’s  _bullshit,_  is what it is, especially because -”

She stops, looking around and biting her lip nervously.

“Because what?”

“Because Nicole is here, Dennis. And she’s not - she’s not with me.”

She watches him expectantly. He shrugs and raises his eyebrows.

“Who’s Nicole?”

“Oh for fucks - The Waitress!” she snaps.

“Oh - _ohhh_ ,” Dennis says. “Right, you two were - yeah.”   
  
“Goddamnit, we’re in heaven and I still want to rip your throat out,” she mutters. “She’s with _Charlie_ , Dennis, which is literally her own personal hell! Don’t you get it yet?”  
  
“Charlie's here?” Dennis asks excitedly, looking around like he might appear. “What about - ”  
  
“Dennis! Focus! We are _not_ in The Good Place!” She takes a deep breath and finishes dramatically, “We’re in hell.”

He laughs, and Dee looks even closer to throttling him. He wonders for a moment if she’d be capable of killing him again.

“You’re being overdramatic Dee,” he says eventually. “Look, just because you don’t get to live with your little girlfriend doesn’t mean - ”  
  
“It’s not just that! Nothing about this makes sense Dennis, are you that blind?”

“Don’t interrupt me,” he says. “I was right in the middle of a sentence, Dee - ”  
  
“Shut _up_ ,” she snarls. “This is serious, Dennis, and you’re not even _listening_ to me - ”  
  
They’re interrupted by a knock at the door. Frank pokes his head in just as they step back into the entryway.

“We need to move on Dennis,” Frank calls. “Time ain’t exactly, well, real here but you know. I got other dead folks to process today.”

“Goddammit,” Dee mutters. She steps in front of Dennis so that Frank can’t see her face.

“Think about what I said,” she says gravely.

“Yeah, okay sis,” he agrees to placate her. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” He pats her shoulder and meets up with Frank waiting on the porch.

“Bye Dennis!” Rex calls out. He turns back and catches a glimpse of the two of them standing together, alone in the giant house Dee hates, and feels a twinge of something uncomfortable in his gut.

“Alright, time to meet your soulmate!” Frank’s voice distracts him from his momentary lapse. “Let’s go.”  
  
They make their way back to Dennis’ apartment. As they climb the steps, he lets his mind wander, picturing a slew of beautiful women before settling on an image of Jackie Denardo standing in an enormous penthouse, wearing nothing but lingerie.

They approach the door, and Frank grins at him.

“Ready?”  
  
“Yeah,” Dennis says, grinning back.

Frank opens the door and gestures for Dennis to lead the way. He steps through the threshold, and his heart sinks straight to his stomach as he takes a look around.

It’s exactly the same as his apartment on earth. It’s cleaner, and a little newer looking, but otherwise it’s the spitting image. He feels like he’s stepped back in time. All of his and Mac’s old knick knacks are in the same place. The kitchen is just as small, the bedrooms are in the same spot, and the same horribly uncomfortable couch sits in the living room.

“Great, isn’t it?” Frank asks.

“Uh, sure,” Dennis manages, clearing his throat. “New appliances?”  
  
“Brand spanking new,” Frank agrees proudly. “Updated the T.V. too.”  
  
“Great,” he says weakly. “It’s uh, great, man.”

“Glad you like it,” Frank says, seemingly oblivious to Dennis’ lack of enthusiasm. “Your soulmate is waiting right in there.”  
  
He points to Dennis’ bedroom, smiling wide. Dennis nods, taking a deep breath as he walks to the door. He runs a hand through his hair nervously, realizing for the first time he hasn’t passed a single mirror the entire time he’s been here. He has no idea if his makeup is even, if his hair is styled properly.

“You look great,” Frank assures him quietly.

He doesn’t reply. He swallows hard, tongue feeling three times it’s normal size. This is what will make it worth it. So what if he has to live in the same goddamn apartment he lived in more than half his life? His sister is here, and Charlie, and he’ll get to experience the afterlife with them, and with his soulmate. Someone he was destined to be with, someone who is just as perfect as he is, someone who is perfect for _him_.

He grips the doorknob, exhaling as he twists and pushes the door open.

He’s still not sure if he actually has a heart anymore, but something in him goes completely still when he sees who’s standing in front of him. Frank’s feel good juju has definitely worn off, because he hears an all too familiar ringing in his ears as his brain short circuits.

“Hi,” Mac greets him brightly.

He’s smiling, face glowing as he looks Dennis up and down. He looks just the same as the last time he saw him, and yet there’s an ease in his expression that Dennis rarely saw in life. His hair is loose, and he’s dressed in his RIOT shirt and jeans, and Dennis wonders if he can cry in heaven as he stares at his achingly familiar form.

“Uh,” Dennis croaks weakly in reply.  

They stare at each other for a long minute. Dennis feels faint; if he weren’t dead, if he had an actual functioning nervous system he’s convinced he’d be unconscious by now.

And then, just as he starts to think he should say something else, Mac beats him to it and flips Dennis’ entire universe on its head.

Mac steps forward with his hand outstretched. “I’m Mac. Nice to meet you.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> la prairie night cream can cost up to $1200 so dennis is valid


	2. um, what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for the feedback on chapter one, love you all xox

“Um... _what_?”

“I’m - I’m Mac?” Mac repeats, smile faltering. His hand is still awkwardly hanging between them. “It’s nice to meet -”  
  
“No, I heard you,” Dennis snaps. Mac looks affronted, dropping his hand like Dennis burned him.

“Uh - what’s your name?” he asks in a small voice.  
  
“Mac. It’s _me_.”

Mac blinks, looking around the room like Dennis is addressing someone else. His eyebrows are pinched together when he focuses back on Dennis’ face. He still has the same frown lines that he had on earth.

“I’m sorry, I don’t -”  
  
“Dennis!” Frank’s voice interrupts, door banging open loudly and making them both jump. He all but falls into the threshold of Dennis’ bedroom. “Uh, ‘scuse me Mac, I need to speak to Dennis for a moment.”  
  
“Uh, okay?” Mac says, looking between the two of them bewilderingly. There’s not even a flicker of recognition in his eyes when Frank says his name. The air feels heavy, he feels like he’s choking as he watches Mac’s confused face follow Dennis being dragged away by the four foot nothing balding angel in their apartment.

Frank yanks him to the living room, closing the door firmly behind him.

“Frank, what -” he starts. He can’t finish the sentence, voice cracking as he points weakly at the door.

“I’m so sorry, Dennis, I forgot - I got so caught up in everything. _This_ is why I shouldn’t do more than two new processes in a day,” he chastises himself.

“What - the _fuck_ \- is going on?” Dennis hisses.  
  
“Okay, okay sit down,” Frank says, pushing Dennis towards the couch. “Let’s uh, we should have a drink or something. Artemis?”  
  
Dennis jumps as a short woman with dark hair suddenly appears next to them.

“Jesus _Christ,_ ” he gasps.

“Nope, my name is Artemis,” she says. “I’m the informational assistant in The Good Place.”  
  
He looks her over, momentarily distracted from the panic clawing up his throat. There’s nothing to indicate she’s not human, but then again aside from his stature Frank also comes across as distinctly normal.

“You mean, like a robot? Like, walking Google?” he asks.  
  
“Not even close, but if that helps you comprehend me, sure,” she answers. “What can I help you with Frank?”  
  
“Beer,” Dennis answers first. “I need a beer.”

A bottle appears in his hand a second later. It’s cold; he gulps it down, realizing as almost an afterthought that it’s the best tasting beer he’s ever had. There’s no label on the bottle aside from a tiny image of a cloud. He feels buzzed almost immediately, something that hasn’t happened after just one beer since he was fourteen.

“Would you like a refill?” she asks as he slams the empty bottle on the coffee table. He would almost swear there’s a hint of judgement in her voice.

“Remember what I said about the potency Dennis -”

“Yes,” he answers shortly. The bottle refills, and he drains half of it straight away.

“I’ll have one too Artemis,” Frank says. A bottle appears in his hand, and he takes a delicate sip.

“You drink?”

“Technically speaking, no. I can’t taste anything, this is mostly just to make you feel at ease.”

“Right,” Dennis says shakily, taking a long pull. He’s having trouble focusing already. “‘ _At ease_ ’.”

“Okay, uh, thank you Artemis that’s all.”  
  
She disappears, and a little beer spills onto his chin as he jumps again.

“God _dammit_ -”

“You get used to it,” Frank promises, waving it off and taking another small sip of his drink.

“Okay, talk,” Dennis demands. “Why doesn’t he know me?”

“Alright alright, look it's just - just a temporary setback,” Frank admits sheepishly. “See, there was a complication - you saw him at your sister’s house.”  
  
“You mean - Rex?” he struggles out. His thoughts are growing fuzzier by the second; Frank wasn’t kidding about the potency.

“Exactly. They were together on earth, you remember, which would have made your… _situation_ unnecessarily complicated.”

“So - so he’s my…” he takes a deep breath, forcing the sentence out, “So this is supposed to be a - a _romantic_ soulmate... situation?”

“Well, yeah,” Frank says simply.

Dennis’ throat constricts impossibly tighter; he decides after all that he does have a heart based on the way it’s attempting to hammer its way out of his body through his throat. Oblivious to his struggle, Frank continues, “But his history with Rex would have made it difficult for everyone involved, so we just - erased their memories of each other.”

“But - he doesn’t remember - “  
  
“Yeah, well, there was a problem,” Frank interrupts, fiddling nervously with the mostly full beer bottle in his hand. “It’s hard to explain, what with your limited knowledge of the workings of the human brain, but basically his memories of being romantically involved with Rex were very closely tied to his feelings for you.”

Dennis bites out a short, humorless laugh and drains the rest of his beer.

“It was difficult for me to… untangle that, so to speak, so I kind of had to - erase you completely,” Frank finishes, far too casually in Dennis’ opinion considering the magnitude of what he’s done.  

Dennis nods to himself, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. He’s quite possibly more drunk than he ever was when he was alive, but he still plucks the bottle out of Frank’s hand and makes to finish it off.  

“Okay, easy, come on,” Frank says, pulling the bottle back out of Dennis’ grip. “Like I said, it’s temporary! No reason to panic,” Frank assures him quickly. “Give it a few weeks, and it’ll all come back to him. You know, minus the whole Rex bit.”  
  
“And Rex?”

“No, no I scrambled it just right,” Frank says almost proudly. “He’s a simple man, it was easier to cross a few wires in his head. When Mac remembers you, it’ll just be you, he won’t remember anything about Rex, except as his gym buddy from earth.”

“Frank, this is - you fucked this up,” Dennis says in a rush, slurring now. “Mac _can’t_ be my - I mean - I mean, yeah, I would probably be _his_ soulmate in his ideal heaven, but -”  
  
“Not heaven,” Frank corrects, holding up an index finger pretentiously.  
  
“- but - _Mac_? Come on, that’s - it’s _absurd_. You made a mistake, I’m telling you.”  
  
Frank smiles almost fondly, and when he speaks his voice is insufferably gentle.

“Dennis. We don’t make mistakes. _Not_ about this,” he adds hurriedly when Dennis opens his mouth to contradict him. “We know you, Dennis. This is what you wanted! Don’t act like you never thought about it.”

Thought about it. Acted on it. Memories resurface unbidden of Mac pressed against him, his lips soft and unrelenting as they clung to each other, drawing together like magnets in those tiny fevered moments when they allowed it of themselves. He remembers the time at Penn, and in the bar, and on their couch, liquor facilitating every desperate touch. He remembers the way Mac grinned at him when they did the real estate scam, his soft smile when he gave Dennis the RPG. His hand steadying him the water the first time they almost died, and again just one day earlier. He remembers his devastated expression when Dennis told him he needed to get over his obsession with him, that it was never going to happen. His smile before he kissed Rex for the first time in the bar a month later, the same way he used to smile before he kissed Dennis. He can almost feel the way his stomach curled, how he tasted bile as Mac’s arms encircled Rex’s waist.

“Yeah,” Frank interrupts his thoughts, understanding and smug at the same time. “Deep down, you know we’re right Dennis.”

Dennis shakes his head, closing his eyes tight. His hands are shaking as he picks up Frank’s abandoned beer bottle. He doesn’t drink it, just holds onto it, needing something to anchor him to this plane of existence. He has nothing to compare it to, but this is definitely the worst first day in heaven anyone has ever had.

“What do I do?” he asks quietly.

“What you always do,” Frank shrugs. “Just be, you know, Mac and Dennis. He’ll come around in no time.”

He stands up and pats Dennis on the shoulder. “Don’t worry son, it’ll be fine. This is The Good Place! Things always work themselves out.”

He picks the beer bottle out of Dennis’ limp grasp. He’s too light headed to put up any kind of fight about it.

“Now I have to attend to some other residents,” Frank says as he heads to the door. “Keep me posted on your progress, and try to enjoy yourself.”

He leaves, abandoning Dennis to contemplate his fucked up existence. Alone, for all intents and purposes, in his shitty apartment, with absolutely no useful guidance on how to deal with his amnesic best friend.

*

His concept of time is fucked up here, but he thinks he stays motionless on the couch for roughly fifteen minutes or so before he musters up the courage to confront Mac. He gets as far as standing, and then he’s swaying on the spot as the room spins and falls heavily back on the couch. His vision swims, and he’s just about cleared his head enough to try again when he hears the bedroom door creak open.

“Frank? Um, I’m getting a little freaked out here -”   
  
Mac stops when he realizes it’s just Dennis and hovers awkwardly in the doorway. Dennis takes him in again as they stare at each other. Does he still have that scar on his shoulder from when he fell out of the Dennis’ dorm room window? Does he have the same number of freckles dotting his face? His shoulders? It’s unconscionable that Dennis can know everything about the person in front of him, but Mac doesn’t even know his name.

“Um. Frank left?”  
  
Dennis starts, snapping out of his reverie. “Yeah, he’s gone.”  
  
His voice is hoarse. He coughs and makes a second attempt at standing. The room still spins a little but he manages to stay upright. Mac is watching him closely.

“So - that was weird,” Mac says eventually, finally shuffling out of the doorway.

“Yeah, sorry I just - you took me by surprise,” Dennis explains, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“You um, you said… that you knew me?”

Dennis takes a few steps closer tentatively, until he and Mac are close enough to touch. His fingers itch to reach out, to make sure he’s real.

“Yeah. I did. I do.”

He decides to follow his instincts and step closer. Mac frowns a little as he does, but he doesn’t let it deter him. He touches Mac’s shoulders tentatively. They’re solid, and strong, and before Mac can push him away his arms wrap around them, pulling him in for a tight hug. Just like Dee, he smells the same as he did on earth, like Irish Spring soap and too much cologne. He feels stable and real and familiar. Dennis breathes out a sigh, and tightens his arms infinitesimally.

“It’s good to see you, man,” he says against Mac’s neck.

Mac doesn’t hug him back, exactly, but his hands come to rest on Dennis’ waist hesitantly. Dennis swallows and pulls away, hands dropping back to his side. He sniffs and wipes at his cheeks surreptitiously.

“Are you sure we knew each other, dude?” Mac asks. “I mean you seem - you’re acting like you _really_ knew me, and I don’t remember you at all.”  
  
“Yeah, I’m positive,” Dennis answers. “It’s Frank’s fault you don’t remember, that’s what he pulled me out to tell me. He um - he screwed something up.”  
  
Mac thankfully doesn't push for details. “Were we… were we like...?”

He gestures between the two of them, cheeks a little pink.

“No,” he says softly. “We were - just friends. Best friends, for a long time.”  
  
“Oh,” Mac replies quietly.

A few weeks before they died, Dennis had staggered into the bar one morning with a killer headache. Mac had handed Dennis a bottle of aspirin before he’d even mentioned the headache to anyone. He barely even looked at Dennis as he did it, caught up in conversation with Charlie and Rex, so offhand and casual like it was just something that they did everyday. He didn’t ask how Mac knew, and Mac didn’t offer an explanation, but Dennis had thought about it all day, chest fluttering wildly and making him feel off balance. And now, if he passed Mac on a crowded street, he wouldn’t even look twice at Dennis.

It’s unbearable, he decides, the impassive, empty way Mac is looking at him.

“Well, uh… Dennis, right?”

Dennis nods.

“What’s your last name?”  
  
“Reynolds.”

“Reynolds… wait, I knew a Reynolds,” Mac says, eyes lighting up. “It was a girl though, her name was -”  
  
“Dee,” Dennis finishes. Mac’s face falls. “Yeah, she’s my sister. Twin sister, actually.”  
  
“Shit,” Mac breathes. “So we like - we _really_ knew each other?”  
  
“That’s what I’ve been saying man,” he responds impatiently.

He grabs a picture frame off the shelf at random, silently thanking Frank for having the foresight to include details like this. The one he grabs is the gang at a Phillies game, arms wrapped around each other outside the stadium. Mac has his arm around Dennis’ shoulders, unsubtly holding him closer than Charlie on his other side.

“Look - this is us, at the Phillies playoffs in 2012,” he says, thrusting the frame into Mac’s hands. “Remember, you threw out your back trying to catch a foul ball? You nearly got into a fist fight with an eleven year old?”

Mac squints hard at the picture, shaking his head furiously. “No, I mean - I remember that day, but you weren’t _there_ dude, I’m telling you.”  
  
“I was! Jesus, I practically carried you all the way to the car.”

“No, no that was _Charlie_ ,” Mac argues, pointing emphatically at Charlie’s smiling face in the picture. “I’ve never even _seen_ you until today, how -”  
  
“No, dude, I'm telling you, Frank’s fucked with your memories! I swear it was me,” Dennis disputes stubbornly. He grabs another frame, replacing the Phillies picture in Mac's hands. It’s Mac and Dennis outside their apartment building; Charlie had taken it for them the day they moved in after Dennis graduated from Penn. They’re covered in sweat and dirt from lugging boxes all day, but the smiles on their faces are huge.

Mac is shaking his head again, looking painfully young and confused as he stares at the picture. His frustration gets the best of him. He cups Mac’s face with one hand. Mac’s eyes drag away from the frame and focus on Dennis’ face, inches from his as he forces eye contact.

“Mac, it’s _me_. I’ve known you since we were fifteen. We lived together for more than twenty years. You _have_ to remember something.”

Mac bites his lip and looks back at the picture in his hands. Dennis’ hand drops to his neck as he waits with bated breath. Frank said their connection was strong, that it wouldn’t take much, that he just needed a push -

“Sorry I - I don’t,” Mac mutters.

Dennis retracts his hand and turns away, running a hand through his hair and fighting the hysteria simmering just below the surface.

“Dennis,” Mac says tentatively, and even the way he says his name sounds foreign. Something splinters deep, the room feels too small and too big all at once, and if he doesn’t get out of here right now he’s going to end up spending eternity in a padded room.

“I’m - I have to go,” Dennis says.

He whirls around, pointedly avoiding Mac’s face as he pulls open the door and rushes out of the building as fast as he can.

*

It takes all of three seconds of looking at Dennis’ face for Dee’s lips to curl, smirking haughtily at him in entryway.

“Shut up,” Dennis snaps.

He doesn’t wait for her to invite him inside. He elbows her out of the way and makes a beeline for their mother’s kitchen. He rifles around in the cabinets, cursing loudly as one by one they turn up empty.  
  
“Where is it?” he huffs, yanking open the refrigerator and climbing on top of a counter to check the shelves above it.

“They’re empty Dennis. It doesn’t work like that, get _down_ ,” Dee says, tugging him back on the floor roughly. “Artemis?”  
  
“ _Fuck_ ,” he swears as the robot chick appears at his elbow again.

“I don’t do that sweetheart,” Artemis quips smoothly. “But we do have a vast selection of sex dolls and toys if you’d like to see them.”

“I - really?” he asks before he can help himself.

“Ew, no, shut up Dennis,” Dee interrupts. “Can we get a couple of beers?”  
  
Two bottles appear on the counter. Dennis snags his and has it popped open in a manner of seconds.

“Anything else?” Artemis asks.

“That’s it, thanks,” Dee says, and then she’s gone.  
  
“Wait - what about when I need a refill?”  
  
Dee rolls her eyes. “You’re already hammered Dennis. This is plenty. Just sip it, it makes the buzz last way longer, I promise.”

She takes a sip of her beer and steers them to their mom’s old sitting area. His heart lurches when he realizes it's adorned with the exact same stuffy and overpriced furniture that they were forbidden from sitting on as children. As adults, they made sure to sit on it every chance they got, sneaking into the house long after their mother’s death and Dennis’ eviction just to drink on her ugly, expensive furniture. They weren’t usually fond of wasting alcohol, but they made sure to spill at least one glass of wine on the chairs at each visit until the most recent tenants moved in and threw all of the ruined furniture out.  

“How do you know that already?” Dennis asks, sinking into his usual armchair. He catches a whiff of stale beer from it, and can see the exact shape of the most recent wine stain he’d left the last time he’d seen it. It makes him oddly nostalgic.  

Dee shrugs. “I’ve been here longer than you.”  
  
“How? We died at the exact same time,” he points out.

“I guess I died a second or two before you? I don’t know, time is fucking weird here.”

She shakes her head and takes a small sip, far more elegantly than she ever drank in life. He does too, following Dee’s advice and drinking slow. He’s delaying the inevitable, trying to enjoy the relative calm while he can, momentarily soothed by the familiarity of the house and his sister next to him. It doesn’t last for long.

“So, are you here to grovel?” she asks loftily.  

“Excuse me?”

“Well, the only reason you’d be here instead of at home banging your new soulmate -”

His cheeks burn, and he takes another long sip to hide it from Dee.

“- is because something is wrong. So, obviously, you’re here to tell me I’m right.”  
  
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Dennis throws back.

“Okay, then tell me, who is it? Who’s the unlucky lady?” Dee replies smugly. She’s definitely picked up on his blush, poking at his discomfort like a cornered animal.

He doesn’t answer. He picks at a thread on the arm of the chair and worries his bottom lip.  
  
“Oh my god,” Dee says quietly. He glances up and glares at her delighted expression. “Oh my god… it’s Mac, isn’t it?”

“How did you -”   
  
“Oh my _god_ ,” she repeats gleefully, holding onto her ribs as she laughs hysterically. It’s far too reminiscent of his reaction to Rex a few hours ago.

“ _Dee_ ,” he warns. He blushes deeper, ruining the threatening effect he was going for.

“Oh shit, Charlie was right. Good thing money doesn’t actually exist here or I’d be screwed.”

She calms down and drinks, watching him shrewdly like a scientist observing a particularly fascinating research subject.

“So, what, you’re here to work through your big gay panic?” she asks. “I thought we’d settled that after that guy at Penn.”

“No that’s - goddammit,” Dennis snarls, face falling into his hands. He’s suddenly overwhelmingly exhausted. Can he even sleep in this place?

“Okay, so we’re pushing past gay panic,” Dee pushes. “So, what then?”

“” _What_?’” he repeats incredulously, lifting his head and blinking at her blearily. “‘What’ is that it’s _Mac_ , Dee.”

She raises her eyebrows. “And? Honestly Dennis, this is the only thing that’s come out of this place that makes any sense.”  
  
“Stop fucking with me, I’m serious.”  
  
“So am I,” she says earnestly, an edge to her tone. “Everyone _knew_ , Dennis. Or are you gonna try and tell me again that keying Rex’s car was an ‘accident’?”

“For the last _time_ , his car was -”   
  
“‘Was parked in a red zone’, yeah I remember. And his suede shoes just ‘happened’ to fall into a Charlie’s bleach bucket, and you were just ‘concerned’ that Rex was using Mac for an easy lay. I’ve heard it all already Dennis. We’re literally _dead_ , I think it’s time you just admit you were in it deep with Mac.”  
  
The silence that follows is deafening. He can’t think, stupidly potent alcohol blurring his already muddled thoughts, making it hard to find an explanation that Dee might buy. After a few minutes Dee releases a resigned sigh, sounding just as exhausted as he feels.

“Look, maybe you should talk to Charlie -”

“He doesn’t remember me,” he blurts.

His eyes are trained on the loose thread he’s slowly pulling out of the fabric, but he feels hers burning a hole in the side of his head all the same.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Did I stutter?” His head snaps up to meet her gaze, so fast that his neck would have cracked were he alive. Her eyes narrow. “ _He doesn’t remember me_. Frank fucked with his memories. He remembers everything else, he remembers all of you, but it’s like - like I never existed to him.”

“Why?” Dee asks incredulously.

“Well, apparently _your_ soulmate ‘complicates the situation’ because of their ‘history’,” he spits bitterly. “Where is he anyway?” he adds, realizing for the first time Rex isn’t hovering and intruding like he’s prone to do.

“Okay, first, cut that shit out right now,” she says, pointing a menacing finger at him. “I didn’t ask for this, at all. And I don’t know, I think the gym or something."

“Of course he goes to the gym in a goddamn utopia,” he mutters.

“Okay, but see? Don’t you get it now? This _isn’t_ utopia,” Dee says. “If it was utopia, I’d be drinking wine in Paris with Nicole, and you and Mac would be - I don’t know, wherever the hell you dicks used to fantasize about, and Mac would remember you, and you wouldn’t still be balls deep in denial.”

“I’m not - stop, just _stop_ ,” he pleads, kneading his temples and squeezing his eyes shut.

Dennis had inherited all of his mother’s money when she died. He, Mac, and Charlie had agreed not to blow it all at once, instead using it to fund their wild ideas and schemes to make even more money, or to make the bar more successful, or just to have a good time. It mostly worked; he was still more well off than most by the time he turned thirty-five, but the three of them had somehow eaten through half of his inheritance in less than five years. And then in a night of drunken stupidity, Dee had managed to con him into signing over half of the remainder to her. So they scaled back, living paycheck to paycheck and not touching what was left. Sometimes Mac would talk about moving to the coast one day when his mom no longer needed him, and when they could afford to use the money again. He wanted to live somewhere where he could see the ocean. They’d talk about it as though it was a given that Dennis was a part of this fantasy, and he’d give his input on the size of their future house and acceptable cities to live in while Mac listened eagerly, agreeing with everything he said with a wide reverent grin on his face.

“Okay... okay let’s just say you’re right, for argument's sake,” he says slowly. “Either we’re in hell - unlikely, due to the lack of flames and torture happening right now - or we’re here by mistake. What do we do? We can’t exactly leave.”

“No shit,” Dee sighs.

“We should - we need to get Charlie over here, huh? Figure out a plan?”  
  
“Good luck with that,” she says darkly. “You won’t convince him we’re not in The Good Place. His 'soulmate' is Nicole, he thinks all his dreams came true. He’s insufferable.”

“How long has he been here?” Dennis asks curiously.

“I’m not sure, I’ve barely seen him. Longer than me. He’ll show up at some point. Nicole came over after you left, she’s going to stay here while we figure shit out. He’s bound to figure that out eventually.” She takes a swig of beer. “He won’t believe us though, I’m telling you.”

“Goddammit, you’re right,” Dennis concedes. “Alright, I just - I just need to get Mac to remember me, and then the four of us will figure something out.”  
  
“ _Five_ of us. You need to be careful Dennis, Frank can’t find out we’re suspicious,” Dee adds seriously. “If we’re not in hell, we’ll definitely get thrown there when he figures out how massively he fucked up.”

“Right,” Dennis agrees.  
  
“He needs to remember fast, Dennis. I don’t know how long I can pretend to be happy here.”

She tips the rest of her bottle over, letting beer seep into the fabric of the cushion. Dennis smiles, a tiny, hesitant thing, but Dee catches sight of it and returns it. He pulls hard on the thread he’d been working throughout their conversation, completely unraveling the ugly pattern of the chair.

They spend a few hours, give or take, enjoying their buzz as best as they can with the anxiety gnawing at their every nerve. They find release in the form of destruction, trashing the sitting room more thoroughly than they ever managed before. Dennis laughs, his first genuine one since arriving, when Dee emerges from a pile of stuffing from the couch, cotton sticking to her hair and her clothes and her eyelashes. It’s almost enough to drown out the broken memories, almost enough to forget about the facsimile of Mac waiting for him.

*

Dee answers his question about sleeping when she passes out in what’s left of the armchair. He sneaks out, successfully avoiding Rex, who took one look at the sitting room when he got home and immediately retreated to his room, and The Waitress, who he sees quietly collecting Dee and carrying her upstairs as he slinks through the front door.  

The streets are quiet. He’s barely seen anyone else since arriving, aside from random passersby who pay him even less attention than he does them. He has no awareness of temperature here, but he feels a chill go through him as he walks through the empty streets in the dark.

Mac is awake when he pushes the front door open. He’s watching something on their fancy new TV, the blue light softening his features, and doesn’t seem to notice Dennis.

“Hey,” he greets hesitantly.

Mac glances up, then scrambles for the remote and pauses the TV. He stands and fidgets nervously.

“Hey,” Mac returns. “You um - you were gone awhile.”

“I was at Dee’s,” he answers.

The door clicks shut as he finally braves it to the living room. Mac is still as Dennis moves closer. He stops just out of arm’s reach, inspecting his toes as they nudge the edge of the rug.

“I should have gone with you,” Mac says. “I still haven’t seen her, or Charlie. I should check on them, make sure they're okay.”  
  
“They’re fine,” Dennis says. “We can meet up with them tomorrow. Maybe check out Paddy’s?”  
  
“Okay,” Mac agrees, brightening a little. “Yeah, maybe that’ll - trigger something.”  
  
Dennis nods tightly. He thought he was alright, that he could handle talking to this Mac, but even this insignificant conversation is eating away at him. He’s exhausted down to his bones, and Mac’s arms are looking more and more inviting the longer he stares at them in a stupor. He wonders, if things were different, if he was still his Mac, if he’d still be able to read him like he did before. If he’d know just from looking at him what he needed, if he’d pull Dennis in and stroke his hair the way he’s aching for him to. 

“I’m um, I’m gonna go to bed,” Dennis announces. “It’s been a long day, man.”  
  
“Yeah,” Mac agrees with a little laugh. “Um… what do you wanna do about that? I was kind of waiting for you.”  
  
Dennis stares blankly back at him.  

“Huh?”  
  
“The bed,” Mac says slowly. “Should we just, like, share?”

He glances at Mac’s bedroom door. His feet carry him to it on autopilot, heart sinking when he opens the door.

It’s a patio. They always wanted an outdoor patio, and this godforsaken place gave them their wish in lieu of a second bedroom. Because of course it did, because fuck Dennis' life, and now his death.    
  
“I mean, it might be kinda weird, you know, unless - did we sleep in the same bed before?” Mac’s voice asks anxiously from far away. “Because like... I mean it’s kinda weird for me at least, but if you’re okay with it -”  
  
“You take the bed,” Dennis says mechanically. “I’ll crash here.”

“Dennis -”  
  
“Just go to bed Mac,” he says sharply.

He doesn’t turn around. He stares at the scene before him, at the sickly sweet fragrant flower pots and ferns and crawling vines adorning the fence, and the speakers on the walls and the cozy looking loveseat overlooking a body of water that Dennis doesn’t recognize.

Mac always wanted to live on the water.

He hears Mac pad quietly into Dennis’ - _their_ \- bedroom. He slams the door to the patio and collapses onto the couch, falling slowly into the worst sleep of his existence.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no idea if the phillies were ever at the playoffs in 2012 don't @ me
> 
> surprise bed sharing! the tropes just keep on giving 
> 
> [xo](http://hyruling.tumblr.com)


	3. meet me in montauk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for very extremely brief mention of internalized homophobia

_He’s here again._

_He’s only been doing this for a week, but finding him here has quickly become a part of his daily routine. Wake up. Get dressed. Brush teeth, ride the rickety, stinking bus with Dee. Find Ronnie the Rat under the bleachers, get high, go to class, survive another day, repeat. Everyday he’s come he’s half expected to find the bleachers empty, but he hasn’t been disappointed yet._

_They transferred three weeks ago now, and he knew within one who Ronald McDonald was. It was bad timing for Ronnie; he’d snitched and gotten a kid expelled that week, so his name was on everyone’s lips the moment he set foot in the place. He didn’t intend to ever talk to the kid, but he found him here by accident one morning after ditching Dee in the cafeteria before homeroom, smoking alone and looking exceptionally miserable._

_He’s sitting in the usual spot, except not really because he’s already budged over to make room for Dennis. Today he doesn’t sigh the way he has the last four days when he saw Dennis coming, like he’s so goddamn put-upon by sharing the blunt he’s already smoking. Instead he hands him a fresh joint, already rolled and ready as Dennis settles on the grass next to him._

_“I get my own?” Dennis asks in surprise._

_“Yeah, I got a little extra last night from dad,” Ronnie explains, a little pink coloring his cheekbones. “I already smoked mine. Plus, it’s Friday, you know. We’ve earned a little extra.”_  
  
_Dennis hasn’t. He hasn’t even opened his SAT study guide since they moved, and has studiously ignored every single assignment thrown at him this week. He takes the zippo he’s offered anyway and lights up, inhaling deep._

_“Thanks Ronnie,” Dennis breathes out as he exhales, tipping his head back as the sharp edges of his mind start to blur._

_“Don’t call me that,” he mumbles, not for the first time. “I hate that.”_

_“I mean, it’s your name,” Dennis says, grinning a little as Ronnie gets visibly angrier. The tips of his ears have turned red, face flushed as he blusters._

_“It’s_ not _,” he argues._

 _“Right, sorry. Thanks,_ Ronald _.”_

_It’s like poking at a sleeping bear. He’s probably going to regret it, when he pushes too far and Ronnie stops providing him with free weed, but he can’t resist the fun of it. He swells up even more, making Dennis giggle before he can help it._

_“_ Stop _calling me that!”_

 _“Oh I’m sorry, did you want me to keep in the rat part? Or maybe you prefer your full name,_ Ronald McDonald _-”_

_“You know what?“ Ronnie snarls. He snags the joint from Dennis’ mouth, disrupting his hit and making him cough, and snuffs it out on the sole of his shoe._

_“Hey!”_

_“Yeah, how’s that feel dick?” he snaps. “No more freebies. You can have it back for fifty bucks.”_

_“Come on, man,” Dennis pleads. “Come on, I was kidding, okay? You’re just - your face gets all red and shit, it’s cute. It’s fun to rile you up, dude.”_

_The triumphant smile on his face falters a little. His eyes drop to Dennis’ mouth, and stay fixed there as he speaks._

_“That’s - that’s kinda gay, dude.”_

_Dennis rolls his eyes, smoothly plucking Ronnie’s still lit joint from his limp grasp and taking a hit._

_“Got you to let your guard down though, didn’t it?” he says, brandishing the joint and smirking as he exhales._

_He looks between his hand and Dennis’, face set in a hard scowl._

_“Look… I get enough shit from everyone else at this school, dude,” Ronnie says miserably, not meeting his eyes. “I didn’t - you can’t smoke my stuff if you’re just gonna show up and be a dick.”_

_“Jesus Christ, you need to unclench or that stick is never gonna come out of your ass,” Dennis retorts._

_He gets an angry choking sound for an answer, and offers the joint back to him, other hand held up as a sign of peace. Ronnie takes it, looking down at it in his hand for a long moment before taking a long drag. The flush of his neck and cheeks ebbs slowly as he exhales. Dennis kind of misses it._

_“My um. My friends - well, friend - he calls me Mac.”_

_Dennis looks up and finds Ronnie watching him with an unreadable expression. It’s almost hopeful, if he squints._

_“We’re not friends,” Dennis says. He takes the joint from his outstretched hand all the same._

_This doesn’t seem to deter him. “Um, I’ve been letting you smoke my shit for free for a week, bro. I think that like, automatically makes us friends.”_

_“It does, huh?” Dennis asks. He takes another hit, hands it back and leans back on his elbows, letting his legs stretch out in front of him. Ronnie watches him, shifting so that he’s facing Dennis and crossing his legs._

_“Yeah, man,” he says, more confidently now. “At least, if you’re a drug dealer, that’s like the rule. You don’t let just anyone smoke for free.”_

_“Why did you let me, then?”_

_He swallows, looking hard at his hands._

_“I don’t know,” he mumbles. “You - you seemed cool.”_

_He lifts the joint to his mouth, realizing as he does that it’s almost gone. He offers it to Dennis rather than taking the last hit._

_“You take it. Mac.”_

_Mac’s eyes find his. A hesitant smile creeps across his face. Dennis returns it just as the bell rings off in the distance._

_They scramble to their feet. Mac makes to toss his roach and the mostly spent joint. Dennis' hand closes over Mac’s wrist, and his eyes are a little wide as he looks at him in confusion._

_“Keep that one. We can finish it later. My parents don’t get home until nine.”_

_Mac frowns. “But there’s only like, one hit left dude.”_

_“So bring more,” Dennis explains, rolling his eyes._

_Mac grins as realization dawns on him, bright and ecstatic. Dennis’ hand is still on his arm._

_It’s just temporary. Just someone for him to hang with that’s not his sister, just until he can suss out_ his _people and find his real friends in this goddamn place. Until then, Mac and his free weed will do._

 

*

 

The only thing more terrifying than realizing your dead, Dennis decides, is to wake up the first morning of the afterlife forgetting that you’re dead.

He’s confused when he wakes to the familiar sight of his living room, groggily trying to remember how he ended up on the couch. He blinks at the blurry figure of Mac huddled over something in the kitchen, and it comes back to him like a semi hitting head on. He’s upright in an instant, heart pounding, distantly aware of crying out something incoherent in his panic. He hears bare feet padding over to him quickly through the pulsing in his ears, and jumps when he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

“Jesus _fucking_ \- “

“Shit, sorry,” Mac apologizes, removing his hand from Dennis’ shoulder immediately. Dennis breathes harsh and ragged like he’s just run a marathon. 

“I know, freaky, right?” Mac says sympathetically. “I woke up the same way.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dennis breathes out. He glances up and sees Mac gesticulating wildly as he talks, hair a soft floppy mess.

“Like, yeah it’s _my_ apartment, but it’s not, and then it’s like, how did I even get in this room? And then you remember oh shit I’m _dead_ \- “  
  
“ _My_ apartment,” Dennis corrects. Predictably Mac pauses and frowns, in a way that’s become distastefully familiar.

“No… no _I_ lived in this apartment on earth,” he argues, hands falling heavily to his sides.

Christ, he’s not in the right mindset for this. His heart is still thudding painfully against his ribs, and his mouth tastes like ass, and he’s still fucking _dead,_ and Mac still has no idea who he is.  

“ _We_ did, Mac. We were roommates.”

“We were? For how lo -“

“Is there coffee?” Dennis snaps, rubbing his forehead. He’s still exhausted somehow. This place has at least saved his back, the usual screaming pain he’d wake with when he fell asleep on this couch on earth is mercifully absent.

“Uh - yeah, I actually um - _shit_.” 

A sudden gust of air hits his cheek. He looks over to see Mac rushing back into the kitchen just as the smell of burning food reaches him in the living room. His stomach churns, memory of the last time he smelled smoke like this still far too fresh in his mind.

He follows Mac into the kitchen and catches sight of charred _something_ sticking to a pan, and a couple slices of black toast flung haphazardly on the counter. Mac is frantically scraping the burnt whatever off the pan and onto a plate, swearing angrily.

“ _Fuck_. Sorry, I wanted - wait, why are you smiling?” Mac asks.

“Nothing, man,” Dennis answers, laughing a little as Mac drops the pan in defeat. “Just - of course you still burn shit, even here.”

Mac looks down at the ruined breakfast, shoulders hunched, and he feels a hint of guilt until they start shaking.  

“Shit,” Mac breathes as he laughs, catching Dennis’ eye and laughing harder. “Shit dude, do we even eat?”

“I have no idea,” Dennis answers, clutching at his stomach, trying to keep the laughter from becoming hysterical. “Jesus, the irony is too much.”

“Irony?” Mac asks. He’s calmed down, but a stray giggle bubbles from his throat.

“Yeah. On earth I would have _killed_ to not have to eat, and now it’s like… I probably don’t _have_ to, but right now even this burnt shit looks appetizing.”  
  
He laughs again, but sobers quickly when Mac doesn’t join him. He’s frowning at him like that again, and this time Dennis squirms for another reason.

“You didn’t like _eating_?”

“I - “ he falters. For a brief moment they were back, for a moment he felt almost normal. The fact that Mac has to even ask that question brings him crashing harshly back to reality. He turns away to pour himself a cup of coffee. It’s made just the way he likes.

“It’s not important,” Dennis mutters around the mug, waving Mac’s concern off. “Is anything edible?”

Mac still looks a little concerned but turns his attention back to the ruined breakfast. “I mean - I was going to cut up some fruit. Can’t ruin that I guess.”  
  
“Sounds good,” Dennis says. Mac brightens and gets to work as Dennis takes a seat at the table.

“How long have you been awake?” Dennis asks as Mac starts chopping up some strawberries. 

“I don’t know. Maybe an hour? We slept late, it’s like, noon, or something. I don’t know, there’s no clocks anywhere.”

“Hm,” Dennis answers idly, watching the muscles in Mac’s back move as he chops and arranges the fruit onto plates for them.

“I kinda thought I was gonna wake you up way earlier. I even dropped a pan accidentally, but you were _out_ , dude.”

“Yeah well, yesterday was a little stressful,” Dennis replies. Mac’s hair is falling into his eyes as he concentrates on the pineapple, tongue poking between his teeth. 

“Right.” Mac turns to look at him. “That’s um, thats why I wanted to do this.” 

“What, burn our apartment to the ground?” Dennis teases.

“ _No_ ,” Mac says emphatically. “No, I wanted to like - I don’t know, do something… nice? Yesterday was weird as shit but like, we’re soulmates so, I wanted to just - yeah.”  
  
Something fluttery erupts in Dennis’ chest and slowly descends into his stomach, settling there and expanding wildly as Mac’s cheeks flush pink. He watches Dennis expectantly, biting his bottom lip.

“Oh,” is all he manages.

Mac nods abruptly, allowing Dennis to take a breath when he turns back to the counter.

“I had a dream about you,” Mac says, in that tone he uses when he’s trying way too hard to be casual. Dennis can’t see his face, but he can picture the exact way his eyes are probably darting around nervously.

“A dream,” Dennis repeats when Mac doesn’t elaborate.

“Yeah I - we were a lot younger, in high school I think.”

Dennis goes very still. 

“We were under some bleachers, smoking weed, and your hair was _so_ curly dude.”

“Mmhmm,” Dennis responds around the tightness in his throat. “What else?”  
  
Mac stops chopping and his head tilts up as he thinks. Dennis’ eyes bore in the back of his head, wishing harder than ever that he could read Mac’s thoughts, could see inside his head.

“Uh… you called me Ronnie… and it pissed me off. And then _I_ said that my friends called me Mac, and you said - “  
  
“‘We’re not friends’,” Dennis finishes with him.

Mac turns around slowly, half of an orange in one hand and knife in the other.

“Yeah,” Mac says softly. “Yeah, how did you - “

“I had the same dream.”

The air feels heavy, fragile, like if they even breathe wrong the world will erupt.

“How did -“  
  
“Because that _happened_ , Mac. I was there. So were you.”

“So - that was - “

“A memory.”

Mac drops the orange and knife back onto the plate with a loud clatter. “That was like, the first week we met, Mac.” He uselessly tries to squash the faint flicker of hope stirring in his chest. “You’re starting to remember, Frank said it wouldn’t take long.”

“No, I still don’t - _fuck_ ,” Mac bites out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t _remember_ anything _,_ dude. It was just a dream.”

“Yeah, a dream about - about us,” Dennis pushes. He stands and joins Mac at the counter, swaying into his space until Mac makes eye contact. “And we both had the same one, that’s not a coincidence. I think it’s working.”  
  
“ _What’s_ working?” Mac asks. “We haven’t even tried anything, man. To me this is only, like, the third conversation we’ve ever even had.”

“Okay, alright fine,” Dennis agrees. His hands reach out of their own accord and settle on Mac’s arms, rubbing up and down soothingly. “I haven’t made this any easier, running out yesterday, let’s just - we can talk about it later. Let’s eat.”

He grabs the two plates Mac had prepared and sets them at the table. He pours himself another cup of coffee while Mac stands still, watching him with a look Dennis might call pathetic if he didn’t look so anguished.

“Dennis?”

It still sounds wrong, Mac saying his name like that; hesitant and small and confused. 

“Yeah?” 

“What if something is wrong?”

“What do you mean?”  
  
“Like - what if I’m not supposed to be here?” he asks. “I mean, if this is really heaven, why would God let me _forget_ my soulmate? What if we’re not even meant to be soulmates?”  
  
“Mac, okay, settle down.” He walks back to Mac, abandoning his coffee on the counter, and rests his hands on his shoulders. He can read the fear written all over Mac’s face, and does his best not to let his own show on his.

“Look, we - if you had your memories, you wouldn’t be saying that,” Dennis says carefully.

“But you said we weren’t together on earth,” Mac points out. 

“I - did say that,” Dennis admits. “It was just a little more complicated, is all.”  
  
“What was complicated? Did you love me?”

He wishes he didn’t breathe here. He’s getting tired of having the wind knocked out of him. His hands fall from Mac’s shoulders instantly and he retrieves his coffee, hands shaking a little.

“That’s not - that’s kind of a loaded question, dude.”  
  
“No it’s not. You either did or you didn’t.” He sets his mouth in a stubborn pout and crosses his arms. It’s weird, how he can still feel the hot prickling discomfort of breaking out in a cold sweat without actually sweating.

“It doesn’t matter, Mac,” he says shortly.

“It does so,” Mac argues. “And you’re not the only one I can ask, you know.”

He strides past Dennis towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Dennis snaps.

“I’m going to Charlie’s,” Mac announces from the door, and before Dennis can get out more than an indignant sputter, the door slams and he’s gone.

“Fuck,” Dennis swears, throwing his mug in the sink. He doesn’t even feel it when the hot coffee splashes on his arm. 

 

*

 

It takes him goddamn forever to find Charlie’s place. He forgot the name of the robot lady, and spends a good fifteen minutes calling out every name he can think of before giving up. He decides to follow a hunch and lets his feet carry him automatically on the familiar path to Charlie’s old apartment. It’s right where it was on earth. Forty-five minutes later, give or take, he finds himself waiting outside Charlie’s door. 

“Holy shit! Dennis!”

Dennis barely gets a chance to get a good look at him before his vision is obscured by Charlie barreling into him in a fierce hug. 

“Hey Charlie,” Dennis says. He tightens his arms and hugs him back. Charlie pulls back to look at him, hands resting on Dennis’ shoulders. His eyes are glassy and bloodshot and he sways a little in Dennis’ grasp. 

“I wasn-wasn’t sure you were gonna be here,” Charlie slurs.

“Yeah, I’m here… are you okay?” 

“He’s wasted,” comes a familiar female voice. He looks over Charlie’s shoulder and sees her, quietly collecting bottles and swallowing them whole. She sees Dennis gaping at her and shrugs. “Quickest way to clean up.”

“Jesus,” Dennis mutters. He extricates himself from Charlie’s grip and steps inside.

“Artemis,” she corrects again. He makes a point to commit her name to memory before looking around.  
  
He predicted this, and yet he still can’t quite believe it. The apartment is exactly like the one he lived in on earth, right down to the broken radiator and filthy pull out sofa.

“Charlie, are you fucking serious with this?” Dennis asks as he steps further inside, inspecting the closet and finding everything exactly as he remembers.  
  
“What?” Charlie replies, hiccuping a little.

“This? _This_ is your utopia?”

Charlie shrugs. “I dunno. I don’ really like change, y’know? I always liked it here jus’ fine.”

Dennis shakes his head and rounds on Artemis. “How many of those has he had?”

“A lot. Too many, probably,” she says, promptly swallowing the last of the bottles. 

“What happens if he has too many?” he asks warily. Charlie collapses on the couch behind him.

“Hard to say,” Artemis answers, bordering on cheerful. “It’s never happened before.” 

“Fuck, alright, you need to go,” Dennis tells her. “ _Don’t_ give him any more, even if he summons you back.”

“You’re not th’boss of me!” Charlie protests.

“He’s right, you know. I have to obey every human here, even him.”

“And me, right?”  
  
“That’s right.”  
  
“And _I’m_ saying get out,” Dennis snaps. He pushes her towards the door, and is slightly surprised to find that she feels warm and human under his hands, not cold and hard like he was expecting.

“Okay,” she agrees mildly. She disappears just before they reach the door, startling him. 

“ _Christ_ \- “  
  
“I can just bring her back!” Charlie shrieks from the couch. “Watch! Hey, Artem-“

Dennis practically dives onto the couch, and his hand covers Charlie’s mouth just in time. Charlie licks his fingers, and he retracts it quickly.

“Gross, dude, stop it!” Dennis cries.

“’S what you get.”  
  
Charlie settles back against the cushions, already forgetting the point he was trying to make. Dennis sees his eyelids flutter, and calculates he only has about five minutes before Charlie is out. Less, considering the potency factor.

“Charlie, hey, pay attention.” He snaps his fingers in front of Charlie’s eyes; Charlie struggles to focus but his eyes crack open. “Has Mac been here?”

“Mac?” Charlie asks, frowning as he thinks. “Oh yeah, he was here.”

“What did you tell him?"

His chest clenches, imagining all the things Charlie could have told him in his inebriated state.

“I dunno,” Charlie admits, eyes drifting shut. “He was all - he was weird dude, he was just like…”

“Like what?”

His eyes close, and he doesn’t respond when Dennis shakes his shoulders.

“Charlie? Charlie!” He shakes him harder, but Charlie just slips further into unconsciousness.

“Goddammit,” he mutters.

 

*

 

Charlie sleeps for a long time. Dennis paces around his apartment for hours, cursing himself when it dawns on him that Mac could have gone to Dee’s. He races to her house and lets himself in, not even bothering to knock.

“Dee? You here?” he calls, voice panicked and loud.

“Dennis?”  
  
Dee’s voice calls down from above his head. He looks up to see her peeking over the landing.

“What are you doing here?”  
  
“Have you seen Mac?”

“Aw, lose your boyfriend already?” Dee mocks as she descends the staircase. She's wearing a silky pink robe and her hair is messy as shit. 

“Shut the fuck up,” Dennis grits through clenched teeth. “Have you seen him or not?”  
  
“No, but Nicole saw him on her way back from Charlie’s,” she says. “She went over there to tell Charlie she’s not gonna stay with him - “  
  
“Yeah, I don’t give a shit,” Dennis interrupts. He ignores the offended look on her face and barrels ahead. “Did Mac say anything about me?”  
  
“Oh my god, this is worse than your first breakup,” she mutters. Dennis opens his mouth petulantly but she talks over him. “No, he was here for two goddamn seconds. Just long enough to piss me off, and then he left.”

“Shit,” he swears. “I need to find him.”  
  
“Sorry, can’t help you.”

She pushes Dennis towards the door, ignoring his sputtering and digging her nails into his spine.  
  
“ _Ow_ , bitch!”  
  
“Get out Dennis. Rex is gone for the day, so Nicole and I are going to make the most of an empty house before we all get thrown in hell. Bye.”  
  
She shoves him onto the porch; he hears the lock click behind him. After yelling a few choice words at her through the door, he turns to the street and lets his feet carry him to the only other place he knows to look.

 

*

 

Even Paddy's smells the same here. The weird combination of dry rot, beer, and traces of gasoline have been replicated perfectly. He forgets for a moment where he is when he steps inside. The room is draped in hazy sunlight, soft orange and pink filtering in from the brilliant sunset outside, illuminating the bar in a way he’s never seen. His eyes track around the room. Every detail is right, down to the stickers on the post and the chips in the wood on the pool table. Things Dennis never thought to notice on earth, things that his eyes are now drawn to, taking it all in greedily like he’s never seen it before. 

His eyes refocus on the only person in the room. He recognizes the shock of black hair and hunched shoulders instantly. Mac doesn’t even look up when Dennis comes around and grabs a beer from behind the counter. He drops into a stool next to Mac wordlessly, taking care this time to nurse the drink in his hand.

“Drink it slow,” Dennis advises quietly.

He feels Mac look at him then, but doesn’t meet his gaze. He focuses on studying the label on his bottle, picking at the loose corner of it idly.

“How’d you know I’d be here?” Mac asks.

“I didn’t,” Dennis admits. Mac’s eyes are heavy with something he can’t place when he finally looks at him. “Or… I don’t know, maybe I did. It’s where we always go.”  
  
Mac hums noncommittally.

“Charlie didn’t tell me anything, if that’s why you’re here. Neither did Dee.”

“Makes sense,” Dennis says. “He was hammered, and she’s a bitch.” 

“You saw them?”  
  
Dennis swallows hard and nods, taking a sip to avoid Mac’s eyes. “Yeah I uh, just left her place. And Charlie’s. Can you believe he’s still in that shithole?”  
  
Mac doesn’t answer, eyes sharp now as he watches him. He feels like he’s under a microscope.

“I mean, he could have had any kind of house he wanted,” Dennis continues, skin prickling under Mac’s gaze. “And he’s still there, in goddamn ringworm city. No wonder The Waitress left - “  
  
“What don’t you want me to know?”

Dennis’ bottle thunks loudly onto the counter.

“What are you talking about?” he evades.

“You followed me to Charlie’s and Dee’s, bro. Obviously there’s _something_ you didn’t want them to tell me.”  

“Funny that you’re suddenly an expert on me,” Dennis says, voice dripping with ire.

“Jesus dude, stop it!” Mac snaps.

The stool scrapes against the floor when Mac abruptly stands. He whips his head around to see Mac standing and glaring at him in a defiant way he hasn’t in years. He looks so much like the Mac that used to push him, that would give as good as he got. The Mac that was much less inclined to just bear Dennis’ wild moods, who’d tell him when he was being a dick and not fear the repercussions of it. Seeing him like this again makes him feel a confusing combination of pissed off and fond.

“Look, I don’t know what to do here, Dennis,” Mac continues. Dennis can still hear the anger in his voice, but it’s strained and tense like he’s trying to control it. “You have _no_ idea what this feels like, to just have an entire part of your life gone and - and not even really _know_ that it’s gone.” 

Dennis is quiet. Mac takes a deep breath and runs his hands down his face.

“You can’t - this won’t work if you try and keep shit from me,” Mac says. “The more you tell me, the sooner I’ll remember and we can… we’ll…”

“We’ll what?” Dennis asks softly, barely above a whisper. 

He doesn’t know what answer he’s looking for, what answer he wants to hear. If Mac were to remember him, here and now, he doesn’t know what he’d do. He doesn’t know if he’d give in, if he’d quietly let things fall back into the stalemate they had on earth. He doesn’t know if he could accept what this place is telling him. He doesn’t even know what he wants Mac’s answer to be.

Mac’s face shutters and shuts down, closed off and unreadable. Dennis releases a breath, about to try and salvage the conversation when Mac’s shoulders slump and he visibly deflates. 

“I don’t know dude,” Mac admits. “I just… this sucks a big bag of dicks.”  
  
Dennis laughs, and the tension slowly dissipates when Mac returns his cautious smile.

“I know,” he agrees. Mac sits back down and takes a long drink of his beer.

“Maybe I could hit my head really hard,” Mac muses after a short silence.

“What?”  
  
“You know. Hitting your head can bring your memory back.”

Dennis stares.

“That’s not how it works.”

“Yeah it is dude!” Mac insists. “That’s how Jason Bourne got his memory back, by getting hit really hard.”  
  
“No, he didn’t,” Dennis argues.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he did.”

“You’re thinking of ‘Hancock’. With Will Smith?”  
  
Mac squints as he thinks it over.

“I don’t know dude, I think you’re wrong. I think it was Bourne.”  
  
“I’m not,” Dennis insists. “Of the two of us, I’m the one with _all_ my memories intact, making me the expert.”  
  
“I can remember _movies_ , dude,” Mac argues. “I can - oh! Shit, how did that ‘Titanic’ chick, Kate something - in that one movie? You know?”

“Not at all,” Dennis says dryly. 

“Yeah, she had like, red hair, and then green hair,” Mac says, ticking it off on his fingers. Dennis lets him ramble, smiling to himself a little as Mac works it out. “And Jim Carrey - or was it Drew?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“‘Eternal Sunlight’ something…” Mac trails off. 

Dennis takes pity on him, laughing at how scrunched up his face has gotten. “’Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind’?”

“Yes!” Mac cries. His excited grin melts into a frown when he sees Dennis’ face. “You knew didn’t you?”  
  
“Yeah, we - we watched it together.”  
  
This sobers both of them. Mac doesn’t say anything for awhile, and the silence grows thick and uncomfortable again. He’s starting to get whiplash from these conversations. One minute Mac is back, and it feels like nothings changed, and just as he starts to let his guard down again the ugly truth comes creeping back.

“Hey,” Dennis says suddenly. Mac glances over, bottom lip red and chapped looking from where he’s been biting it. “I have an idea.”  
  
“What?”

“No, wait - I can’t tell you,” Dennis says. Mac opens his mouth to protest but Dennis cuts him off. “No just… meet me back home in like, an hour? Okay?”

He stands, buzzing with sudden optimism. “I told Dee I’d come go see her tonight though,” Mac replies.

“So what, it’s Dee,” Dennis waves him off. “Blow her off.”

“But - “  
  
“Mac, come on. Please?”

Something shifts in Mac’s expression. “Okay, fine,” he agrees.

“Good. One hour,” he repeats. Mac nods and he rushes to the exit. He brushes past a familiar figure in the doorway but doesn’t bother to see who it is, too caught up in the plan he’s formulating to care.

 

*

 

He summons Artemis, and in an hour he has crafted the perfect recreation of their movie nights on earth. Artemis really came through, managing to reproduce the same popcorn they liked, the same blue bowl they never returned to Dee, even the same off brand gummy bears Mac liked.

He’s arranging the pillows in what might be considered an overly obsessive way when Mac walks in. He surveys the room, and has the gall to look unimpressed.

“What do you think?” Dennis asks, gesturing to the couch and coffee table.

“Uh…” Mac steps further into the apartment, looking around like he’s lost something. “What am I looking at?” 

Dennis scoffs. “The key to getting your memories back,” he explains.  
  
Mac raises his eyebrows skeptically, saying nothing. Dennis huffs, irritated that his intentions aren’t immediately understood.

“Yeah, look - we’re gonna watch ‘Eternal Sunshine’, and I’ve recreated everything about our old movie nights. We even have the same _bowl_ , dude.”

Mac doesn’t look convinced, but he still sits down on the couch when Dennis gestures to it.

“Worth a shot, I guess - “ 

“No, wrong side,” Dennis interrupts, shoving him over to the right side of the couch. He settles into his seat and props the popcorn bowl in between them. Mac immediately grabs a huge handful, just like he always has, and Dennis doesn’t even complain when half of the kernels spill on the cushions. 

“Ready?”

Mac nods, mumbling in assent around a handful of popcorn. Dennis hits play and settles back into the cushions, hand brushing Mac’s as they dig into the popcorn bowl.

They watch in silence for the first thirty minutes. He forgot how much he hated this movie, and ends up spending most of the time watching Mac out of the corner of his eye, waiting for a memory to be triggered by something on screen or between them. He scoots closer. When they watched this on earth, it was a week or so after Dennis divorced Maureen, and Mac had been a little clingy afterwards.

_  
“This is stupid.”_

_Mac was dressed in sweats and a well worn band shirt, sleeves still intact but frayed at the ends. His shoulder looked soft and inviting, but Dennis kept his distance, overly aware of the tension that never really resolved when Mac moved back in._

_“Why don’t they just break up like normal people?”  
_

_“Breakups can be painful,” Dennis replied carefully. He shifted, pulling his legs underneath himself, conscientiously not reacting when his thigh brushed Mac’s and stayed there. “The concept is pretty good, really. I just can’t get past the casting, it’s atrocious.”_

_“She’s fine, except the weird hair,” Mac pondered. He wrinkled his nose as Jim Carrey came back on screen. “They should have gone with someone else for the dude though, like Ryan Gosling. Or Reynolds.”_

_Dennis rolled his eyes. “This movie is like six years old, they weren’t as big back then.”_

_“Fine, then DiCaprio. Or Hugh Jackman!”_

_Mac frowned at the screen, then reached forward to retrieve the forgotten popcorn. When he leaned back, he was pressed against Dennis from shoulder to calf. He knew it wasn’t an accident._

_“She was already in ‘Titanic’ with DiCaprio.”_

_“She was in ‘_ Titanic _’?”_

 _“Jesus Christ, Mac.”_

“Dennis?”

Dennis shakes his head a little, focusing his attention back on Mac.

“Yeah?”  
  
“I asked if that’s the same chick from ‘Titanic’,” Mac says, looking at him a little oddly. “You okay?”  
  
“Fine,” Dennis answers quickly. He reaches for the bag of gummy bears, settling closer to Mac when he leans back, mirroring Mac’s exact move. “Yes, that’s her.”  
  
“Knew it,” Mac says triumphantly.

Dennis chooses not to give him shit for his inability to recognize one of the most famous actresses in the world. One battle at a time. He’s still waiting for any kind of sign that he remembers something about the first time they watched this, but nothing happens. Mac’s eyes stay glued to the screen. He decides the Titanic thing was a fluke, but continues to steal more glances every few minutes.

Mac makes no comment on Jim Carrey, even when Dennis brings it up first. Dennis recites the same commentary he gave on earth, to the best of his memory, at the same points in the story as before. Mac hardly reacts, interjecting a few times to ask questions, but otherwise watching more intently than he ever did when they were alive.

He gets desperate and decides to pull out the trump card.   


_The house on the beach crumbles. Kate Winslet called out, “So go!” on screen, and Dennis had decided he was done with this movie._

_“I wish I had stayed. I do.”_

_His head fell lightly on Mac’s shoulder. He felt the way Mac went a little rigid, the way his pulse jumped, and breathed in the smell of their laundry detergent on Mac’s soft shirt._

_“You were scared?”_

_Mac relaxed slowly, eased back a little so Dennis’ neck wasn’t bent at such a sharp angle. He exhaled, and swore he felt goosebumps on Mac’s neck where his breath hit his skin._

_“Come back and make up a goodbye at least. Let’s pretend we had one.”_

_His eyes closed tight, shutting out as much as he could. He couldn't shut out Mac though, still felt the way he shifted uncomfortably under his cheek._

_“_ I can’t do it anymore Den, I’m - I’m sorry. _”_

 _“Meet me in Montauk.”_  
  
_He pretended to be asleep when the movie ended. Mac had stayed on the couch for a long time after, remaining uncharacteristically still, save for the knuckles ghosting over Dennis’ forearm._

“You tired?”

Mac’s voice is soft, practically speaking to Dennis’ hair. Dennis pretends to stir from his shoulder. 

“Did I fall asleep?” he mumbles.

“Yeah. This movie sucks, dude.”

Dennis makes a noncommittal kind of sound. He doesn’t lift his head, dreading facing the emptiness of Mac’s eyes. 

“I know,” he replies.

They fall silent, Dennis still curled against Mac’s side. Mac is tense, but he lets Dennis keep his head tucked in his neck. Mac’s heart is beating faster than seems strictly necessary for a dead person.

He feels something brush his arm, and his heart leaps to his throat when he sees Mac’s hand hesitating inches from his. There’s a long moment where neither of them move, not even daring to breathe.

But Mac’s hand falls back to his lap a moment later, consciously not making contact with Dennis’. 

“Mac? Are you - “ 

“Do you want the bed tonight?” Mac interrupts in a strained voice.

“Yes,” he answers immediately. Mac disentangles himself and stands, avoiding eye contact as he hovers in front of the couch.

“Cool, I’ll just grab my, um - “

His face is pinched as he tries to come up with something.

“Mac.” 

He swallows. He looks almost manic as he looks at Dennis, and it makes his chest ache.  
  
“The bed is big enough for two,” Dennis offers quietly. His cheeks heat up, but he doesn’t look away.

Mac stares at him for a long time. He can only say yes or no, he tells his racing heart and clammy hands. He’s not sure which scares him more.

“Okay.”

His shoulders slump as the tension bleeds from them. Mac relaxes slightly, but he can still sense his apprehension the entire time they spend getting ready for bed. They climb into bed, a California King, just like the one they used to share at Dee’s, endless space between them. Mac makes no move to get closer; Dennis follows his lead, too afraid he’ll spook him more than he already has.

“Night, Dennis,” Mac calls quietly from what feels like miles away.

“Night, Mac,” he says. 

He waits until Mac’s breathing evens before his mind settles enough to even consider sleep. Just as he starts to lose hope that he’ll ever sleep again, a force pulls him down  fast and easy like gravity into unconsciousness. He has just enough time to wonder if it’s the voodoo of this place drawing him in deep before he’s lost and dead to the world. 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *meryl voice* eternal sunshine reference? in an amnesia fic? groundbreaking. 
> 
> this chapter was such a struggle im sorry its so late and disjointed and bad but now we get into that good shit
> 
>  
> 
> [xo](http://hyruling.tumblr.com)


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